


The Breath of Sun

by Snerp



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Caring Hannibal Lecter, Established Relationship, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, F/F, F/M, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Like, M/M, Married Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Murder Husbands, No Beta, Not Beta Read, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Slow Updates, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Cannibal, hannibal is in fact a cannibal, i can't write, i have no idea what the hell i'm doing, inspired by another work, murder fluff, nobody else realizes they are in love with each other, oblivious cast, so much, they were made for each other, they're actually s o u l m a t e s, they're so cute, they've been married for so long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snerp/pseuds/Snerp
Summary: Will and Hannibal met each other one fateful night in New Orleans. They get violently married, consummated in the river of blood and bone, in the flesh of the monsters of men. They are faithfully married, but not many know they are married to one another.OrI need more married, established Will/Hannibal that features oblivious everyone. With a lot of murder fluff because they are so gosh darn cute.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 46
Kudos: 486





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In Sickness and in Health](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651000) by [BonesAndScales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesAndScales/pseuds/BonesAndScales). 



> This is just the prologue and I want to try to actually have things nicely written out and thought out and not the mess of my brain. This is more for me, for fun and if my writing is kind of trash, I apologize. This is inspired by another work and I am trying to remember the name of it. As soon as I find it, I will be updating this. I also can't promise a strict update schedule, I cannot do. Enjoy!

The buzzing. The incessant buzzing. Like flies ambushing a corpse, feeding on everything that it was. More than anything else, it was the buzzing that had driven Will into giving in. He wanted to prove them wrong.

Will had only been trying to escape the overbearing town he had always known. The constant buzzing of the people around him; their judgemental looks, the prying eyes violating his thoughts, his actions. Nothing but nobody townspeople without anything else to pay attention to. They were nothing more than worn down, good-for-nothing insects that had only managed to live as long as they did because they were surrounded by similarly daft insects.

Of course, he was confused. Initially. The overbearing urges pressing into the temples of his mind, squeezing his wants into one big mass of mush behind the pounding of his eyes. No one had really understood him then. They never bothered to and instead, had chalked it up to nothing but an adolescent attention whore that would eventually become as jadedly ignorant as the rest of the town.

So, in true adolescent fashion, he made sure his dad was dead asleep, propped open the window to his room, and escaped into the shadow of the night.

When he came back several hours later, his cheeks were flush with adrenaline, his hands gilded in blood, and his mind clearer than it had ever been before. The air felt clearer than it had ever been before.

He and the monster had _danced_.


	2. Alana Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if anybody got a notification for a new chapter, I have just realized none of my italics have shown, so I'm just fixing that. A new chapter should be out soon!!

Upon her first meeting with him, Hannibal had been strikingly charming if not almost instantaneously off putting as he made it extremely clear that he was off-limits. Even so, she had been enraptured with her mentor, the _poise_ that he so thoroughly represented. Her infatuation, however, was slightly inappropriate, and through the rumor mill, she had heard that Hannibal had been married for twelve years. 

Alana had been surprised. Hannibal was nothing if not a forbidden crush. He was extremely capable, handsome and very _proper._ So, naturally, she was extremely interested in who, exactly, had caught the attention of her mentor, and had kept it so devoutly. 

It was very obvious that Hannibal was hopelessly in love with his spouse, but he had always been tightlipped about her. He never talked about her whatsoever, and eventually, she got brave enough to ask why.

“My partner is a very private person. I will not, no matter the circumstance, betray their trust in me for the familiarity of a passing colleague”

“The companionship of another is not worth more than the passionate connection of a soulmate,” Alana finished.

“Right you are, Ms. Bloom.” Hannibal smiled at her, and for a moment, she was breathless.

Though slightly disappointed in his answer, Alana felt as if she had glimpsed something intimate in Hannibal’s personal life, conversation intrusively revealing of Hannibal’s infatuation of his spouse. Although _burning_ with curiosity, she did not want to push her mentorship with the man. She valued his companionship above most others she had created during her residency. 

Needless to say, Alana had wanted to learn _more,_ but she valued her mentorship with Hannibal too much and didn’t want to put any unnecessary strain on that relationship. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help but noticing that nobody knew anything about his wife. There was not a whisper of a name, a vague recollection of appearance, and no dastardly rumors. Just how _private_ was Hannibal’s partner?

Even as she had been getting closer to Hannibal as her residency wore on, there was almost nothing to indicate Hannibal was even married besides the gold band around his finger. The few times she had been invited over to Hannibal’s grand dinner parties, and later on, friendly, private gatherings just between the two of them; she had never seen any sign of a spouse whatsoever. 

Even though slightly deterred by the first conversation surrounding his wife, she had hoped that Hannibal would be more willing to share details of his private life, no matter how _private_ he said it was supposed to be. So, when she was brave enough again, she asked. 

“I don’t mean to be intrusive, and by all means, you do not have to indulge me, but why have I never seen your spouse? I mean, you hold such grand dinner parties that it seems such a shame to miss them,” Alana tried. She just needed to sate the _burning_ that had not gone away ever since she had first met Hannibal.

“My partner could care less for my dinner parties, or decorations for that matter, and so, most graciously I might say, those duties are all left to my own indulgence.” Hannibal breezed through his kitchen as he finished preparing their meal, as grand and as meticulous as always.

“Does that offend you?” The words stumbled out before she could stop them. Hannibal didn’t look surprised. 

“I knew exactly the kind of person I was marrying,” Hannibal paused. His movements stilled and as if in another place entirely, his eyes lit up, his gaze distant, glazed, but _sharp_ . “My partner, however, does love to _dance._ ”

Alana was unsure of how to respond. She had never seen Hannibal so enthralled and intoxicated, or even, unfocused on the present moment. She couldn’t help but hesitate in taking her first bite of the meal Hannibal had set in front of her. How did one respond to that?

Yes, she was insanely curious, probably more than she was before she had asked, but she recognized the finality in Hannibal’s tone. He was done talking about the subject, respectful of his wife’s privacy.

“This is a beautiful meal,” she tried. Hannibal smiled. “What kind of meat is it?”

“Nothing but the best of swine.”

“Pork,” Alana’s eyebrows rose. “A little plebeian, don’t you think?”

“I assure you, I use nothing but the finest of swine. If cooked correctly, and with enough grandeur, it is nothing if not art.” Hannibal smiled and rose the forks to his lips. 

She continued eating, her curiosity sitting in the back of her throat. _Burning._ She raised the fork, hesitating one last time before she took her bite. The _burning_ subsided slightly as she moaned, flavor gripping her tongue, overtaking her senses. 

___

When she had first met Will Graham, Alana didn’t really know what to think about him. He wasn’t much. He was clean, if a little twitchy. There was nothing wrong with that, although she felt as if he should have been a little sweatier. He was composed, but impolite, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. While everything else had been a surprise, that hadn’t been, especially considering his disorder and the effects that could entail.

Even with her own assumptions and prejudices, she had made an active attempt to avoid the articles published on Will’s disorder before having the chance to meet with him. Unfortunately, and most embarrassingly, her curiosity had taken hold of her as she read whatever articles she got her hands on. 

An empathy disorder made sense. The sloped form of his shoulders, slightly hunched to shield his body from the world. The bluntness, bordering on rudeness, coloring almost any comment he made to turn the scrutiny from himself to those around him. Almost everything he did was an attempt to be as unsociable as he could. Whether that was to save himself or to save others, Alana was surprisingly unsure.

Empathetic? Yes. Aware of himself? Debatable. Polite? Not quite. 

Of course, her taste for manners had been greatly influenced by Hannibal, but regardless of that influence, found Will refreshingly honest, if not somewhat manipulative. That could be attributed to his empathy. Since he was able to so clearly empathize with those around him, manipulation was just child’s play. 

That had not been a surprise. 

What had been a surprise was the branded strip on his finger, glinting devilishly in the sunlight. 

“Are you _married_?” Alana tried to make sure she didn’t sound scandalized, but a man as impolite and manipulative as Will hardly seemed to be in the position to be in any kind of romantic relationship with anyone. 

Will’s face remained unchanged. His stare was unsettling and Alana wished she had been more subtle in her inquiries. While Will was not unpleasant company so far, did not mean that he was not perceptively _unsettling._

“For sometime now,” Will’s answer was short and clipped. It was not necessarily the end of the topic, but Alana felt as if this hasn’t been the first time someone has asked him. 

“I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Graham-”

“Call me Will.” Will’s face was impassive and Alana was feeling lost. She did not like feeling lost. But worst of all, for some reason, Alana felt as meek, weirdly offended by his behavior. It almost felt like he was _mocking_ her even though he was only indicating a professional level of interest in her response. 

Needless to say, she felt _violated._

“I’ll be honest with you, Will,” she tried again, “I was not expecting you to be married.”

Will’s smile was sharp. 

“Did you think I was going to be more _unstable?”_

Upon meeting Will Graham she had believed that she would be holding the upper hand in both the topics of their conversation and in mannerisms. Both, of which it would seem, she was floundering spectacularly in. She felt strangely _submissive._

“If I am honest, yes. Of the psychiatric circles I have paid attention to, most paint you in a very unflattering if almost inhuman manner.” Alana decided that honesty was going to be her best chance to have an equal conversation with Will Graham. 

Will let out a small laugh, almost patronising. Of who, she wasn’t too sure. 

“What is she like?” Alana’s _burning_ had made a return, just as she constantly felt around Hannibal. 

“ _She_ ,” Will said in amusement, a small smirk quirked on his lips, “I am afraid, would much rather enjoy being here to have this conversation.” Alana was a little surprised. She had guessed that the spouse in question would have been much more private, a little more like Will. 

“She’s more sociable than you?”

“In a way,” Will looked straight into her eyes, pinning her in place, the blue achingly bright. “But _she_ would much rather be here for the ego boost than the company, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t say that doesn’t peak my interest.”

“I’m sure you wish you could know every single detail you could about my relationship with my spouse.” Will’s eyes had not moved from hers. She didn’t think he had even blinked. Silence washed over them, contemplative as Alana tried to gather her wits again. 

“How did you two meet?” 

Will sat back in his chair, and Alana almost wanted to flinch. When had he started leaning forward?

“With a _dance.”_

Alana was startled. She had not expected that. However, she was quickly realizing that she didn’t really know what to expect when it came to Will Graham. 

“You don’t seem like the type to dance.” Will only smiled and settled further into the back of his chair, seemingly amused. Finally, he broke his gaze with hers and turned his head, a small smile on his lips.

The _burning_ refused to go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still feel like this chapter is lacking in some aspect, but I wanted to give a little more. I had trouble really trying to embody Alana and I am pretty sure I failed specatacurlary (I cannot spell). It is also shorter than I would like it to be, but for now, I think it gets the point across. Hopefully, you guys still like it though. 
> 
> Thank you!


	3. Jack Crawford

Will Graham was nothing if not a pain in his neck. He was extremely straightforward and Jack did not take well to explicit slights aimed at his pride. Jack also did not take well to being told he was wrong, or that an arguably unstable twitchy man would believe that he knew better than he did. It also didn’t help that he had completely disregarded Jack’s attempt at trying to be civil by not even giving his offered handshake a passing glance, but Jack stamped down the urge to say something about. 

According to Will Graham, Jack was wrong. 

In his line of profession, being wrong meant death. When he was right, and he usually was, he saved people. In the case of Will Graham, his authority seemed to be constantly in question. His confidence in his choices was in question, and Jack did not like that scrutiny- it made him feel like he wasn’t in control and Jack did not take well to that.

“The Evil Minds Museum?” Will Graham scoffed. “Really, Mr. Crawford?”

Will Graham brought one hand to his face, rubbing his temples as if an oncoming headache- or an already existing one- was bothering him enough to show physically. Or, and what Jack was suspecting to be the true reason- Will Graham wanted to break his connection with him in order to slander him more effectively. “As the head of the Behavioral Science unit in the FBI, I expected you to have more  _ tact.” _

“Yes, Mr. Graham. It’s clear, straightforward,” Jack paused. “Something I’m sure  _ you  _ would appreciate.”

Will Graham let out a humorless laugh, his head turning to the side, avoiding eye contact with Jack. “Please, it just infantilizes the so-called ‘evil minds’ you’re talking about.”

“Maybe that’s the point. It helps familiarize the general public in a more comfortable space.” Jack was firm in his reply.

“No, what it does, Mr. Crawford,” Will Graham's voice was increasing in tension; his tone was rising, disbelief and dismissiveness clear and piercing, one hand on his hip, the other gesturing towards Jack. Something caught the light as his hand moved but Jack decided to ignore it. “Is make these  _ people, _ ” Will Graham spit out, “seem like house flies more than a serious threat.”

Will looked at Jack straight in the eye, voice quiet but tense. “It could  _ anger  _ them.”

Jack had obviously heard about Will Graham’s disorder- an object of fascination among psychiatric conversation. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, it was slightly unsettling at how  _ easily  _ it seemed for Will Graham to assume such a radical point of view. Jack himself had been working in this environment for a while now and still, it was difficult to fully  _ assume _ in order to understand them. It made Jack question how much Will’s disorder was empathy and how much of it was possible kinship.

“With all respect, Mr. Graham-” Jack started.

“Oh please, you have no respect for me. Anything I say is disregarded because you think you are so  _ right  _ you are unable to see how-” Will stuttered, trying to find the word, “-how  _ childish  _ this all is.”

“And you do? Find this childish, I mean?” Jack’s eyebrow rose, amused. Will Graham’s eyes narrowed, registering Jack’s amusement and not appreciating it in the slightest. Will took a deep breath to steady himself. His hand had returned to rubbing his temples, lifting up his glasses in the process. Curls falling down to his forehead, framing his frustration with Jack. 

“What I find childish, Mr. Crawford,” Will forced out, “Is your complete lack of  _ respect  _ for anyone’s opinion but your own.” 

Jack was still amused. To get the infamous Will Graham so riled up was as easy as they’ve said, but in the case of the museum, amusing if nothing else. Jack did, however, want to try to keep some sort of civil relationship between the two of them, just in case he wanted to have Will as an asset on his team. His disorder was extremely valuable. 

Jack let out a sigh, trying to dispel the tension between the two of them. “I believe we got on the wrong foot, Will,” Jack paused, “Can I call you Will?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Can we start over?” Jack held out his hand, hoping for the handshake Will had denied him at the start of their conversation, establishing his  _ respect  _ for him. 

Will Graham let out a sigh, his hand traveling inwards to his eyes, rubbing them to get rid of an itch or as an excuse to refuse any eye contact with Jack, either or, Jack didn’t really care. Jack was sure Will was feeling frustrated, and if Jack wasn’t so amused with the situation, he would agree with Will’s frustration. There was a beat of silence, and eventually, Will extended his hand and shook Jack’s waiting palm. It was strong and firm, confident- or angry, Jack thought in amusement. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. 

“You’re married?” Surprise colored his tone. He wasn’t aware that someone would be able to stand Will for long periods of time. Jack thought himself to be tolerant of all people, and Will Graham was already testing his patience. If he wasn’t potentially valuable, Jack wasn’t sure he would be so steadfast in his civility. 

“What?” Will drawled out, “Is it so  _ surprising  _ that I have someone I actually like?” Will stared at him, hand falling down to his hand. 

“Like? You don’t love her?” Jack questioned, crossing his arms out in front of chest.

Will scoffed again, his hands twitching. “What I do and do not like doesn't seem to have any value to you,  _ Jack.”  _

“I am just trying to make some passing conversation, Will. There is no need for hostility.”

“And that is where we disagree. I do not take kindly to being looked down upon.” 

“I haven’t ever heard anything about you being married,” Jack ignored his comment. “I was surprised is all,” Jack defended. He really hadn’t known that Will Graham was capable of keeping such a committed relationship- he seemed more like a recluse than a loving father. 

“ _ Psychiatrists  _ seem to prefer focusing on the contents of my mind rather than the content of my life.” Will clipped. Jack’s hand traveled down to his pockets, happy that he found some common ground with the hostile man. 

“I myself have been married for almost ten years now, what about you?” Jack asked. If he was honest, Jack was expecting nothing more than three years, if anyone was  _ actually _ able to stand Will Graham for such an extended period of time, if not a cleverly hidden trick to get out of unwanted situations than the presence of an actual spouse. If anything, Will seemed to be extremely antisocial. Finding a spouse in such extremes of behavior was probably a difficult one _ \- for the wife most of all _ , thought Jack.

“Over a decade now,” Will dismissed before looking sharply at Jack. Jack was stunned. That was a very long time, much longer than Jack was expecting from Will. To be married for so long was no easy feat, and while Jack was unsure of Will’s exact age, he was by no means old and wisened. 

“You married young?” Jack was extremely surprised. Will seemed so deeply entrenched in his antisocial mannerisms that those characteristics must have only been amplified during his adolescence and twenties- not suitable for finding a partner whatsoever. 

“When I was eighteen, yes,” Will didn’t seem to think that this was such a big deal. And Jack begged to differ. Not only were the odds against him, as young marriages had a statistically higher rate of failing, but he and his Bella haven’t been married for quite as long, and already, their marriage was rife with hardwork and effort. Will’s blatant dismissal of such a milestone was almost insulting.

Will’s piercing blue eyes remained sharp, he seemed to hesitate but there was a distant fondness creeping into his expression. “It was an instantaneous attraction of desire between the both of us.”

“Must have been quite the woman,” Jack commented, getting over his shock. “Is she older?” 

“I was never taken advantage of, Jack, if that is what you’re getting at.” Will sounded offended, but Jack’s righteousness seemed to be spilling out.

“But you were just so young,” Jack retaliated. 

“Both of us have never bothered to follow societal constructions of right and wrong when it concerns our relationship.” 

“Interesting coming from a man teaching at the FBI,” Jack snided. 

“Not in the way you are thinking,” Will heaved a sigh. “I assure you there was nothing  _ fishy  _ going on with our relationship,” he assured. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Just because my relationship doesn’t follow the conventions of what you think is right doesn’t mean that it is worth less than yours,” Will said heatedly. 

“Certain conventions shouldn’t be in question, Will,” Jack placated. That seemed to be the last thing to him over the edge.

“ _ Goodbye,  _ Mr. Crawford,” Will spit out, turning on his heel and exiting rather dramatically. 

While amused, Jack decided he shouldn’t give WIll Graham another thought until he was useful to him. Still, Jack couldn’t shake off the amusement of the entire situation. 

Will Graham was certainly interesting if not a pain in the ass. 

__

When Jack had first met with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, he was somewhat shocked, but pleased, with his unashamed show of grandeur. Lecter himself was as sophisticated and well-mannered as a man of his refined tastes should be; and, surprisingly, he was a lot more sociable than Jack thought he would be.

However, as much as Jack could take away the few moments of shame, the actual, very first impression of Dr. Lecter was not so positive. While he had passed on from the moment in order to keep things professional, the encounter with Dr. Lecter in the private exit that he provided for his patients was not, in anyway, what Jack would call a successful encounter. 

Needless to say, Dr. Lecter was somewhat cold, not unexpected of a professional, but Jack had not taken kindly to it. At all. It had made Jack feel incompetent. First, Jack mistook Dr. Lecter’s patient as him, sure that a man of Lecter’s status would hold the power in the professional aspect, opening the door first and then allowing for a patient to follow through. He was wrong and Jack didn’t take kindly to his own blunder, but Lecters immediate dismissal of Jack was humiliating. If he was honest, his ego was bruised. He was not usually dismissed in any circle he was in, but Dr. Lecter had such a no-nonsense personality that Jack was distantly reminded of Will Graham, if not the more sophisticated version of said man. 

Contrary to Will Graham, however, Dr. Lecter was much more civil, a lot more social and willing to participate in mutually beneficial conversation. If Jack was honest with himself, his opinion of Dr. Lecter was already well established before meeting him; due to Alana’s recommendation and Lecter’s extremely refined tastes. Those factors were all sources of admiration while Will Graham, arguably, lacked any redeeming traits besides the usefulness of his empathy disorder. While not as sophisticated as Dr. Lecter, Jack knew when to appreciate such exemplary good taste and his respect for the man increased, allowing him to ignore the blunder from earlier. 

“My name is Agent Crawford. I work for the FBI,” Jack started, hoping to appeal to Lecter’s adamant display of professionalism. A good relationship does not start without an introduction, and at Lecter’s initial icy display, Jack didn’t want to take any chances. 

“FBI?” Dr. Lecter paused stiffly, staring at him, a small quirk in his tone. “Have I done something wrong?”

Maybe not as icy as first suspected. Jack was sure Dr. Lecter knew that his visit was not a suspicious one, considering Jack’s fairly casual demeanor. Jack smiled, let out a small half and stopped his observations of Dr. Lecter’s elaborate office. 

“No, no,” Jack trailed off. “Alana Bloom recommended you.” 

“Alana?” Dr. Lecter faced him, a tilt to his head, curiosity like a cat. “What has she recommended me for?”

“I need help with a profile,” Jack confessed, facing Dr. Lecter. 

“Don’t you have profilers at the FBI for that?” Dr. Lecter questioned, his hand behind his back. “Or Alana herself, for that matter? She is a very good psychiatrist.”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“Then I’m afraid why you would be in need of my services,” Lecter said kindly. 

“Alana has a conflict of interest. One of our profilers,” Jack started, “Will Graham-” Jack’s eyebrows rose as he looked at Dr. Lecter, expecting that the man had at least heard of the name. 

“Well,” Jack chuckled, “I just want to make sure that he doesn’t get too close. Alana doesn’t trust me enough to keep that promise. I want to try my best to.” He tried to allow his worry color his tone, hoping that Dr. Lecter would pick up on it- to help his proposition be as successful as it could be, and because, even though Jack would never admit it, he was very worried about Will. 

Dr. Lecter regarded him for a moment, silent, contemplative. Jack’s last statement colored the air, blending in with the blues and greens present in Lecter’s office. The books lined on the wall witness to their conversation, judging- or recording, as books do. Jack took the moment to look at him, the neatly pressed suit, clean, planned. Sandy-hair gelled back, out of the way. Clean and sophisticated. His office reflected that. All straight lines, clean floor, dusted shelves, muted color palette. Dr. Lecter was, if anything, consistent and  _ tasteful.  _

Dr. Lecter shifted before smiling at him. He extended his hand to Jack, taking a step forward to get closer to him. “I’ll do it,” he stated firmly. Jack took his hand happily, a small wave of relief rolling out of his belly, and disintegrating from Dr. Lecter’s office. 

“I look forward to working with you, Dr. Lecter,” Jack said confidently. 

“And I you, Agent Crawford.’

Lecter’s smile was all teeth. 

______

It was cold outside. Made colder by the dry cold stabbing at all vulnerable pieces of flesh. The cold seeped into his clothes, down to his bones, encouraging his headache to pound against his skull. He liked the cold, he just wasn’t prepared to deal with it. Jack had pulled him out of classes, again. He had taken Will, asked him to help him, and still, constantly looked down upon him. Even Will’s practice at keeping his temper even had been slightly irked at how unchanged Jack was from the first time he met him. It made sense, Jack would never change; he was too set in his ways. Will had known that the instant he had met him, and his theory was only further confirmed the longer they had talked. 

Will, while tolerant, for now, did not really like Jack. He was big, burly, a bully. He was used to getting his way. Will, who was much smaller, and antisocial, was not Jack’s kind of people. He was merely a tool that Jack had thrown into his toolbox, waiting for the right moment he needed it. 

It was dehumanizing. But then again, Will wasn’t so sure he was entirely human to begin with. Especially if Hannibal had anything to say about it. 

Stepping out of his care to the cold, biting aire, Will grit his teeth and shuffled closer to the front door. Jack had not been kind to him. He was sure that even if Jack though that he was being as merciful as he could be, considering the situation, Jack would always work him to the bone. Will wasn’t sure when was the last time he had slept peacefully. Late nights at the academy, late nights with Jack- it was all taking a toll on him. 

_ Well,  _ thought Will,  _ I may have become a little spoiled.  _

He made it to the front door, his joints cold and stiff, hindering his speed and mobility. As Will slid the key into the lock, his eyes blurring around the edges. Not only had he had to handle his classes, he had to consult with Jack on the Minnesota Shrike case. The Minnesota Shrike wasn’t the problem, it was the man in charge of it that had truly tested his nerves. His headache had only been worsening as the day dragged on, his eyes straining in their sockets, tired. He was too. Which was why he was trying to slide this  _ damn  _ key into the lock. Why wasn’t it so dark outside? 

Finally, the lock gave and Will turned the handle, slowly stepping into his house, the floorboards creaking under his weight. The lights were on, Will observed. The warm sepia soothing his headache, but his eyes were still straining. He let out a sigh. He was so  _ tired.  _

As he closed the door behind him, his eyes half-lidded. He registered a shift in gravity, his body heavy. 

He thought he was falling. 

Soon, warm, strong forearms captured him before his head slammed into the floor. Will knew these arms. They were familiar, more so than his own. He knew their frailty, their craft, their mobility. He also knew of their strong brutality, athe violence rendered beautiful as they tore apart reality, a quality he loved all the same.

“Hannibal?” Will whined. His eyes were drooping even further know. He was struggling to keep them open, but it was a losing battle. 

Hands sifted through his hair, placating, soft and comfortable. Will let out a small noise, sinking into the hold. His headache was turning into a dull ache, helped by how comfortable he was. He didn’t need to worry about Jack, or killers, or anything. He could just stay here and sink into the warmth. Nothing was expected of him here. 

“Shh,” Hannibal whispered, his hot breath caressing his neck. “Rest, my love,” he said simply. 

Will drifted off, feeling comfortable and  _ safe.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still somewhat unsatisfied with this. I don't like how I wrote about it, it sounds weird, but of well. Also, I have absolutely no idea whatsoever about behavorial science, so all I said can't be used against me in court, it's all bullshit that sounds cool and feels like it makes sense. Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I tried to make it a little longer, which was a fun challenge. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep it up
> 
> Thank you for all the nice comments!!! I love reading them!!!
> 
> Until next time!


	4. Mr. and Mr. Lector-Graham

Will felt protected. Warmth graced his cheek, caressing it ever so slightly, soft, comforting and almost weightless. His limbs followed suit, lax and pliant, too heavy to pick them up, but no weight burdened them. His cheek was on something sturdy, hotter than the light gracing the other side of his face. His hand resting on the chest beneath him, the thin coat of fur tickling his nose. It was familiar, achingly so. 

In the presence of a predator, he felt completely and utterly at ease. 

Hannibal’s chest was a metronome, steadily controlled, consistent in its tempo-  _ tick tick ticking  _ to the beat of his heart, accompanied by the upbeats of the rise and fall of his chest, creating a beautiful contrast in their legato to the staccato of Hannibal’s heart so closely pounding against his ear. It was vulnerable, in its rhythm, controlled in its vulnerability, completely  _ aware  _ of the danger it was in so close to his hands, his  _ teeth.  _

Oh, the damage he could do. The damage he  _ had _ done. The damage he will do. 

Will slowly became aware of the hand comfortably resting in between the forest of his locks, small tingles of pleasure racing down his spine, miniscule in their scale, but a domestic pleasure like no other. Will’s hand in Hannibal’s chest tightened as a small huff of amusement exhaled from the man he had married so long ago.

“Do I need to be afraid?” Hannibal all but whispered, his mouth,  _ his  _ teeth, so crystally clear in its nearness, in its  _ danger. _

Will opened his eyes slowly as he craned his neck upward, staring at his beloved. Their bed was expansive due to Hannibal’s luxurious taste, but Will always seemed to end up on top on top of Hannibal in some fashion, and for the years that they had been together, Hannibal had never, not once, tried to discourage the habit (Will knew he found satisfaction, frustratingly smug in Will’s dependency for human contact, Hannibal the sole positive provider. No matter how smug he became, however, Will never once stopped, and Hannibal never refused). 

Will took great pleasure of the private moments he was privy to, that no other being would ever be able to share. Hannibal, while different from the incessant buzzing of the mundane and boring, still suffered from his restrictive human nature. While-physically speaking- Hannibal was more uninhibited than most, much to his chagrin, Hannibal was still affected by the sleep clearing from his eyes, the mess of his hair. The hair- that should’ve been painfully straight no matter what- never failed to form a birds nest- so precisely consistent in its location- the left side on the crown of Hannibal’s head, knotting impossibly. It was an unspoken norm for Will to work diligently to detangle the anomaly, Hannibal contentedly humming away, barely audible if at all. His eyes closed, his back to Will- trusting- as he enjoyed the domestic peacefulness they had bled for.

While he would never admit it to his husband, that small, intimately quiet part of their morning was his favorite part of their morning routine, achingly so. He also suspected that it was Hannibal’s too (Hannibal had stopped refusing his help very,  _ very  _ early on in their marriage and instead had settled into it like a cat would for pets). 

“Always,” Will said lovingly, his smile small but sharp. He raked his hand teasingly down Hannibal’s chest, starting directly above is heart to just above the dip where Hannibal’s ribs rolled off, leading straight down to the tender of his stomach. 

“You are a captivating creature,” Hannibal said breathlessly, his pupils expanding as he looked lovingly at his partner. The utter adoration glittering in the darkness of his eyes, hooded with mischievousness, humorous in their truth. Will snorted as a physical shiver of pleasure raced down his back. He ignored and reacquainted his cheek with the blanket of Hannibal’s chest, the beat of his monster’s heart unhurried, lulling his eyes to get heavier and  _ heavier. _

“I would have to be,” Will blinked slowly as his hand traveled further down Hannibal’s stomach, just past his belly button. Will basked in the soft tissue- tearable,  _ fragile.  _ “To keep the attention of the likes of you.” 

Hannibal said nothing in return, he didn’t need to. Will knew him too well, words were a fun pastime, important for the stimulation of their minds but unimportant for their relationship. What they said and did not say was a matter for them, no one else. It was intimate in the softly whispered words, the harsh syllables of their teasing forming a dance that just they knew the steps to, its intricacies difficult in the web of their design.

Hannibal resumed his petting, possessive of what was his, of the prize he had won. Will’s hand returned to Hannibal’s chest, clawed over his heart, nails sinking into the tender flesh. He usually kept his nail short, but had felt like indulging his husband, he was his after all. Both he and Hannibal had won their prize, priceless in their ruthlessness in the violent lullaby of their domesticity. 

“Truly a magnificent creature,” Hannibal said admiringly. It was fact to him, even if Will sometimes failed to see it. Hannibal never failed at making him feel so uniquely and violently  _ pretty _ . Will breathed out the weariness that he felt in his bones- the weariness he had felt so deeply in his joints, in the marrow of his skeleton- submitting to his monster above, granting his submission as a gift. He felt his eyes get heavier, the world darkening once again. His hand relaxed, satisfied to be poised right above his lover’s heart, threateningly loving. 

Will felt lips press against the top of his head, soft and sweet as teeth scraped against his scalp teasingly, sharp and dangerous. With that, he fell once more into the black void of nothingness, his monster his loyal protector. 

__

Will was reading Freddie Lounds most recent fetishized article, riddled with fake empathy and surface-level inquiries to grab the attention of the masses. While Freddie might think she was a smart girl, and manipulatively talented at that, she was nothing more than the bee in a playground, intimidating all others around it, but overall, harmless and  _ buzzingly  _ mundane. 

_ Although she thinks herself superior, she is just another cog in the machine. _

_ “ _ Hannah Arendt?” Hannibal asked teasingly, setting Will’s mug gently in front of him. Will put down his tablet, reaching for his coffee, which was, undoubtedly, made to perfection. Hannibal knew exactly how Will liked it. 

“Oh please,” Will muttered against the lip of his mug before taking a sip. He felt its warmth race down his throat to the center of his chest, blooming dangerously close to his heart. Hannibal settled down in front of him, gracefully arranging his limbs like a cat, folding in on himself confidently as he took a sip from his own mug. 

_ “A matching set,” Hannibal looked at him with what was probably the closest thing Will had ever seen ‘puppy eyes’ from the man.  _

_ Will rolled his eyes, his husband’s antics exasperatedly amusing. “How romantic,” Will snided.  _

_ Hannibal’s eyes creased with a gleeful smile, happy with his spoils of battle.  _

“Hannah Arendt at least had some tact, “ Will muttered into his mug. Another sip followed the trail of fire burning down to his chest, pleasurable in its warmth. “If anything, Freddie Lounds-” 

Hannibal’s eyebrow’s rose. Steam from his coffee floating into the air freely as the shrill screeching of his phone screamed through the blissfully peaceful morning. Will sighed heavily, the warmth in his chest gone, replaced with the cold dread of anticipatory disappointment. Letting his head fall with a dull thud onto the back of his chair as he prepared himself for the call, he carelessly answered the phone, his neck bare. Will still managed to see the predatory darkness of Hannibal’s eyes locked onto the soft exposed skin of his throat. Will grinned cheekily, his mood brightening up ever so slightly. 

“Hello?”

“I need you at the BAU.”

“Not even a ‘hello’, Jack?” he drawled, eyes still set on the downcast gaze of his lover. Will heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the phone. It would seem that Uncle Jack was frustrated.

“This isn’t the time to be a smartass,” Jack snarled, his frustration seeping into his tone. Will was barely paying attention to him, his gaze sharpening as Hannibal kept his gaze steadfast. He picked up his mug and took another sip of the coffee his husband had prepared. He took a sip, slowly working his tongue around the liquid, relishing the feeling of his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, Hannibal’s eyes following religiously. 

“I wasn’t trying,” Will said distractedly. Playing two games at once was dangerous, Jack was one handful but Hannibal was a  _ lethal  _ distraction. It was just a matter of which one he wanted to play. 

“Just get your ass here,” Jack growled, “ _ Now.” _ The line went dead, a singular deafening tone that Will managed to quickly ignore. Finally, he put his mug down as Hannibal lifted his eyes, slowly and appreciatively up Will’s face. 

“I take it you have to leave?” Hannibal teased, raising his matching mug to his smirking lips, eyes hooded with desire. He took a sip and set the mug down quietly. 

“I’m afraid so,” replied Will. An innocent look slipping onto his face in feigned obliviousness. He started to rise out of his chair, rearranging his clothes to look more presentable before heading to the main hallway where their (needlessly expensive) coats hung in their respective places. He heard the shuffling of socked feet following close behind as strong, warm arms wrapped around his midsection. 

“Don’t cause too much trouble,” Hannibal said adoringly, kissing the side of his cheek. Will looked behind him quickly, eyes softening when looking at his  _ monster.  _

“I’ll try.”

With that, Will opened the door and bathed in sunlight. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's not very long, and I kind of wish it was slightly longer, but I decided that some murderous fluff would make up for it. But like, gentle murderous fluff with a lot of teasing because of course they're constantly edging one another. I do wish it was longer, but I also wanted to post something for guys. Hopefully, the next chapter will be longer (that's what she said), until next time! 
> 
> *also, all you're comments are so nice, thank you so much, they make my day*


	5. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, so like, I know its kind of been a while but also school has started up again and I have like absolutely now fucking will to anything whatsoever, but I did make this slightly longer than I usually do and I gotta say, pretty proud of myself. but, also, kind of hate it because there are some parts I really don't like but don't really know how to fix soooooooo
> 
> I hope you guys like it!

“I’m not some kind of miracle worker, Jack,” Will rubbed his temples, the oncoming headache pounding away at his head. He had taken some aspirin earlier, but it seemed that it wasn’t helping. Of course, taking away all possible irritants, like Jack’s insistence would’ve probably done wonders on his headache. Unfortunately, he lacked tact and couldn’t think of a way to say that politely- especially with a row of murdered girls in front of his face. That macabre train of thought, while not a new one, definitely reminded him of Hannibal. He was a true parasite, if nothing else. 

Either way, the case was serious, Will got crabby when he was suffering through social situations (Hannibal  _ actually  _ called him ‘crabby’ once). Will wasn’t trying to be a pain in the ass, Jack just always wanted things done as quickly as possible in the way that he preferred it to be done. Unfortunately for him, it was not always feasible, and sooner or later, Jack was going to run Will into the ground, 6-feet under with a monstrous murderer vengefully nipping at his heels. For both his sake and Jack’s, Will was hoping that it didn’t end that way, even though everything in him was telling him that, like Jack, Hannibal always got his way. 

Well, almost always. 

“Then what are you,” Jack asked cynically. He was frustrated. His suit, while clean and well kept, his tie was askew, the pin lower than he usually cared to put it. The blue dress shirt he was wearing was wrinkled, not from multiple use in a short timeframe, but from carelessness in his posture- most likely from hunching over at his desk, his head in his hands. Jack was many things, but he was almost never sloppy. He took care of what he had, because what he had he had had to work for. One of the reasons why he was so set on catching the Minnesota Shrike- or even, the Chesapeake Ripper. He had to  _ work  _ to keep his place, and he knew that. As the head of the BAU, Jack constantly had eyes watching his every decision. Needless to say, Will was not at all surprised that Jack was exasperated at Will- he was projecting his inability to understand the Minnesota Shrike was something that could end his career. Jack was being pressured, and he needed to find the Minnesota Shrike fast. His reputation depended on it, and Will, like always, was a means to an end. 

Unfortunately for Jack, Will was a tool with a consciousness of his own.

“I look at the evidence,” Will seethed. He was getting tired of Jack constantly berating him, constantly overworking him only to yell at him for something he couldn’t control. “I draw conclusions from the evidence I see-  _ that’s all. _ ”

“No, you get into their heads,” Jack said darkly. “So why,” Jack pounded his fist down onto the desk, his voice rising, glaring at Will, “-can’t you tell me more about the Minnesota Shrike?”

Will rubbed his eyes, the migraine was only getting stronger, beating against the confines of his skull. He really didn’t want to be here right now. He just wanted to go home, drink some whiskey and fall asleep. Jack yelling at him was only fueling the darker impulses within him. The ones he was trying to desperately quiet down, they wouldn’t help him here. 

Will let out a tensed sigh, bringing his hand away from his face to look at the pictures of the victims. 

“They’re all very ‘mall-of-America’,” Will muttered quietly. He was trying to keep his tone controlled. He could not let Jack escalate the situation any further, for both their sakes.

Jack nodded behind his desk, staring at Will intently, trying to catch everything he was doing. 

“It’s not about all of these girls, it's about one of them,” Will started. His headache pulsated faintly. “She will be the same weight, same height, same color, same age- that’s,” Will paused to look at Jack directly. 

“-That’s your golden ticket,” he finished. Jack only nodded, his jaw firm, before he made a swift exit out of his office. 

Will’s hand attempted to rub away the headache. 

__

“Dude, are you okay?” Beverly’s concerned face appeared in front of him, her brows furrowed as the corners of her mouth turned down into a slight frown. Out of everyone on the team, she was the most genuine. Will appreciated that. 

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly. He was pulling at his hair, hoping that the sharp sensation would ease the pain he felt raking inside his head. Beverly continued to look at him concerned. 

“Jack’s really putting you through the wringer, huh?” She tried to sound easygoing but there was an undercutting tone of concern. She looked at him, brows furrowed, her posture stiff like she didn’t want to scare. 

Will let out a humorless laugh. It was gruff and strained, like he was trying to gasp for air but there wasn’t enough. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it. Nothing had ever been this bad before. “Jack wouldn’t notice if he did,” he said dryly, trying to ease the pain that was now grabbing his chest. Beverly only looked at him, her expression didn’t change before she looked away and only stood next to him. He appreciated that she wouldn’t make it a bigger deal than it needed to be. 

Out of his peripheral he saw Beverly give him one more side glance before looking ahead. “I’m here whenever you need anything, okay?” She said quietly. 

Will nodded. The tightness in his chest easing just a little. The pain is his head slightly dimmed. 

They stayed like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence. 

__

“Hello, Special Agent Crawford,” came the clipped, accented voice. Jack looked up to see Hannibal Lecter standing before him. His suit was cleanly pressed, not a hair out of place. Jack smiled at him, wanting to be as inviting and as welcoming as Will probably wasn’t going to be. 

“Dr. Lecter, I’m glad you could make it,” Jack said. Hannibal smiled gracefully before moving further into his office, suit jacket draped artistically over his forearm. Jack bowed slightly, motioning to one of the chairs. Hannibal nodded his acknowledgement before sitting down in one of the seats, light and weightless. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” Jack offered. Hannibal settled in further into his chair, smoothing down his suit jacket in his lap before he looked up at Jack. Hannibal raised up his paper cup elegantly, finders resting on it lightly, before smiling, “Seems as if the waiting room has beat you to it.” Jack gave out a small chuckle. 

Hannibal glanced to his right, a small pause in his movements as he cocked his head ever so slightly. His gaze was inquisitive, slowly scanning the board before he gestured towards it softly with a graceful hand, turning his head to Jack. “May I?” he asked, his hand still pointed towards Jack’s board on the Minnesota Shrike.

Jack smiled, “Please.”

Hannibal set down the coffee in the paper cup on the corner of Jack’s desk before standing up and resting his suit jacket on the back of his chair. His movements were quiet, subdued. Not timidly, but rather in a strong, controlled manner. 

“Tell me, how many confessions?” Hannibal’s hands found comfort in the pockets in his slacks as he leaned forward to look closely at the photos. Jack rested his hand on his hips, glad that Hannibal was easier to work with than Will Graham was. 

“Enough to know none of them are the right one,” came an exasperated drawl. 

Speak of the Devil. 

“Mr. Graham, you were supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” Jack scolded. He couldn’t let his temper get the best of him, especially in front of a guest as posed as Hannibal Lecter. Will didn’t look at him, his head angled down and away before he had even stepped into his office. Compared to Hannibal, Will all but stomped to his seat, not bothering for Jack to invite him to sit down as he took the seat that Hannibal’s suit jacket did not occupy. He stubbornly refused to look at Jack and Hannibal, greeting neither of them before slouching down into his chair. Jack sighed, the case had already exhausted him and Will was no help whatsoever. 

Hannibal looked at Jack, eyebrows raised in question or amusement, Jack didn’t know which one he preferred. Jack gave Hannibal a friendly, pleading smile as he once again gestured to his seat. The quiet of the room was deafening. Jack wanted to strangle Will. Not that it was necessarily his fault but it was, Will always had a habit of seizing control of the situation when Jack was supposed to be the one holding down the reigns. Whether conscious or not, Will was very good at pressing his control. 

“I had class,” he paused, “To teach,” continued his clipped reply. Jack shared one more look with Hannibal before they both moved to take a seat. Jack got behind his desk as Hannibal passed behind Will to get to his seat. 

Will glanced over to his left, eyebrows rising as he sharply glanced at Jack. 

“What’s  _ he  _ doing here?” Will spit out, his eyes blazing. Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead. He wanted to give Dr. Lecter a better impression but that was speeding out the window faster than Jack had thought it would. 

“This is Hannibal Lecter,” Jack started, “He’s here to help with the profile,” he explained. Will let out a humorless laugh before turning his gaze stiffly toward Hannibal. 

“I am only here to help, Will,” Hannibal said kindly. Jack wanted to praise him for his adaptability. He was way too respectful for his own good, especially considering how  _ rude  _ Will was being. He wanted Lecter’s help, this case was too important to cut any corners. 

“ _ Help,” _ Will gritted out menacingly. “Psychiatrists are rarely here to help,  _ Doctor.”  _ Will averted his eyes to the floor, his shoulders stiff. His hands were gripping the armrests of the chair. Hannibal seemed a little taken aback. Holding his composure Hannibal arched his head down slightly trying to get Will’s attention before smiling softly. Will’s head rose slightly, his eyes catching Hannibal’s. 

“I am not here to cause you undue harm, Will,” he started his hands resting neatly in his lap. His smile was still soft,  _ tender.  _

“Oh really?” Will said tensely. 

“Yes. I can promise you that,” Hannibal finished. His face was still soft, and Jack was sure he was hallucinating because it looked almost  _ fond.  _ They stared at each other for a moment before Will lifted his head and looked through Jack. Yup, he needed to close this case quick, he was seeing things. He needed his beauty sleep. 

“Who’s profile is he working on,  _ Jack? _ ” Will asked. He said Jack’s name like it was a curse. Jack wasn’t sure what he had just witnessed but he was happy that Will and the doctor seemed like they would be able to get along. It made his job much easier and gave their team more manpower. Which he knew they would need for this case and for the ones undoubtedly to present in the future. 

Will also didn’t seem to be too happy, but now his anger was directed at him again and Jack wanted to sigh. Will was, for the lack of a better word, intense. It came with his empathy, Jack firmly believed. He was intense because he was trying to keep people as far away as he could be, but Jack needed him. So much so, he was afraid where he would be without Will Graham. Yes, he was a pain in the ass but he was the best. 

“I need you to calm down, Will,” Jack placated. He knew Will was sensitive but there was a limit to how much sensitivities he was going to allow—especially in the line of the work that they were in. 

“ _ Whose _ profile is he supposed to be working on Jack.” Will breathed out. Jack did realize that he may have overstepped his boundaries just a little, but he also knew that Will needed to get it together. 

“He’s here to assist us with the Minnesota Shrike, Will,” Jack said firmly. He needed to stop this temper tantrum right now. Will seemed to glare at him for a little longer before sitting back. He was still tense, his glare piercing and never straying from his face. His hands, however, had started to fidget with his wedding ring. 

That little band of gold never seemed to surprise Jack (he was also pretty certain that Will wasn’t actually married, he had never heard of his wife at all). 

“If I may—” Hannibal interjected

Will stood up and left his office. Jack panicked a little bit, staring in disbelief. He didn’t really know how he was supposed to salvage the situation. Hannibal turned his body to follow Will out the door. 

“I’m really sorry,” Jack apologized. “He’s usually not like that. I pressed one too many buttons, I suppose”

Hannibal stayed staring at the door, still as a statue. He didn’t glance at Jack at all, his shoulders slowly stiffening. Although the meeting was a disaster Jack was glad that Hannibal seemed to want a friendship with Will. That would work well for him. 

“No.” Was all Hannibal said before the room was suffocated in silence. 

__

Will wanted to hit something. He didn’t know what, just  _ something.  _ Like Hannibal’s  _ goddamn _ face because  _ how dare he— _

“Will.” The achingly familiar voice whispered in the depths of his mind. 

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he said stubbornly. His headache had been pounding the entire time throughout the meeting. It hadn’t helped his mood. Hannibal could tell, he just knew it. He knew  _ fucking everything.  _

“Will.” The voice came out softer, pleading. 

He had been taking pills for days now and nothing had helped the incessant  _ buzzing  _ pressing against the walls of his mind. It was just a pounding  _ buzzbuzzbuzzbuzz— _

“Will.” The voice came even softer, accompanied by a delicate touch under his chin, lifting his head to meet Hannibal’s eyes. Will closed his eyes. He told himself he just didn’t want to see Hannibal’s pleading eyes (but the light only amplified the pain in his head). 

“What are you doing?” Will whispered. He wasn’t really mad, not over this—not yet. He just wanted the comfort and warmth that only his husband would be able to provide. Barely thinking, Will shifted slightly forward, his forehead landing softly in the crook of Hannibal’s neck and shoulder, trying to bury into it as tightly as he could. He wanted to get out of the goddamn  _ light.  _

“We can talk more later when your mind is clearer,” Hannibal promised. “I am more concerned that you seem to be in pain—” Will breathed in sharply. He wasn’t hiding it well, he knew, but he still didn’t want Hannibal to worry about him. The last time he had been on the verge of death had almost broken the man. 

“How long has this been going on?” It wasn’t supposed to make him feel guilty, but it did. They very rarely hid anything from each other, but Will really hadn’t wanted Hannibal to worry. Not for something like this. 

“A couple of days,” Will whispered. 

“Has it been getting worse?”

“No.”

“What do you want me to do?” Hannibal asked. His strong, skillful hands pressing Will closer to him. One hand went to the back of his head, tangling themselves into the sweaty curls, pressing him closer to his husband. The other rested on his waist, bringing the rest of his body nearer to one of his only sources of comfort. 

“Take me home?” His voice cracked. He didn’t have to always be strong in front of Hannibal. Not always. He would take care of him, he always did. Hannibal was the only person who he could trust.

“Please?” he added. 

They were in the parking lot, hidden away in a dark corner that Hannibal had chosen to park his Bentley. Will wanted to scoff in amusement. Hannibal was always one for the dramatics, no matter how small. Will was just afraid if he made any more sudden movements his headache would descend to become short of unbearable. 

Hannibal turned his face and kissed the crown of his head, pillowed by his soft curls. Will relaxed even further into Hannibal, letting out a tense breath of air. Yes, his monster. His alone to be tamed, to be ravaged. 

Didn’t change the fact that he was kind of an asshole. 

“Of course,” Hannibal whispered sweetly before they walked slowly towards Hannibal’s Bentley, Will’s face still in the crook of his husband’s neck. Hannibal walked Will to the passenger side, opened the door and gently helped Will settle into the seat, his limbs sagging his head pounding. 

Hannibal closed his door before he got into the driver's seat and starting up the car. 

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” Will tried to put heat behind his words, but his head was making it hard to do much of anything. 

“I only wished to surprise you,” Hannibal replied. Will felt the car start to move. He rested his forehead on the cooled glass. 

“If you really want to surprise me—” Will started, He stopped, the headache making itself known once again. He didn’t want to end this here, but he couldn’t think past the  _ pound pound pounding  _ that wouldn’t stop in his  _ goddamn, stupid ass, fucking head. _

“Stay?” he pleaded, voice getting quiet at the end. Everything felt like it was crashing down on him. 

The car was silent for a few moments and Will was sure Hannibal was just processing his request. It was rare when Will would be so openly vulnerable.

Hannibal must have reached over instead of speaking anything, in the next second his skilled hands had enveloped Will’s own in comfort and warmth. Will sagged even further into his seat. 

“Always,” Hannibal answered, his voice soothing his headache ever slightly. 

The rest of the car ride was spent in soothing silence.

__

“You made me chicken soup.”

Hannibal hesitated before a grimace shook his shoulders, his face scrunching up. 

“It is a little more sophisticated than that,” Hannibal replied with dignity. A wave of  _ fondness  _ passed through Will. 

“You made me chicken soup.” His voice was starting to show his amusement. He wanted to kiss the man so badly, wanted to grab his face and just squeeze him until he crumbled underneath his palms.

Hannibal sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. 

“I made you chicken soup,” he grumbled, clearly ruffled. Will’s smile only got bigger. 

“Thank you,” Will said sincerely, reaching out to grab his husband’s hand, caressing the top of his palm softly. He  _ loved  _ this man. 

“Is this amusing to you, my love?” Hannibal questioned. He wasn’t that angry or put off, in fact, he still seemed concerned and worried for Will ever since they had gotten home a couple of hours ago. Hannibal’s frustration was all surface level and a pretense. Under it all, Hannibal was nothing but a mother hen. 

“Very,” Will said proudly. His smile wouldn’t stop curling up, hiding his enjoyment of the situation. Hannibal sat next time, his hand never leaving his as he turned his undivided attention onto Will. He expression saddened just a tiny bit before his other hand came up to brush the side of his face, caressing sweetly. 

“Are you feeling better?”

Will let out a small  _ humph  _ of breath before he leaned his head into his lover’s hand. 

“Yes,” he whispered. Hannibal only stared at him as if he was the most captivating thing in the entire kitchen—and Hannibal did love his kitchen. Will, however, had been married to Hannibal for far too long to be unaware of his manipulations. 

“We still need to talk about that entire thing with Jack,” Will prompted, his head still comfortably resting in his husband’s palm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hannibal never once stopped his movements before he spoke, his eyes staring straight into Will’s soul. “I wanted to surprise you—”

Will snorted.

“—and I wanted to see how the FBI does its work,” Hannibal finished.

“A peeping tom? Is that what you are?” Hannibal smiled, his hand moving to brush Will’s curls. 

“More like a curious cat,” Hannibal supplied.

“Definitely not a domesticated one,” Will laughed. He wasn’t actually too angry, and Hannibal had never lied to him; not when they were so intrinsically part of one another. That still didn’t mean that Will shouldn’t be concerned about any other  _ surprises.  _

“I beg to differ,” Hannibal’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Will. Will groaned. The hand through his hair was pure bliss, especially since the headache had just gone away. “I only have one owner.”

Will was close enough to Hannibal to have his head fall onto his shoulder. He was tired, but it was finally hitting him just how exhausted he was. He just wanted to go to their bed, press himself against Hannibal and sleep like the dead. With Hannibal, he knew he would always be protected. 

“Not an equal? How surprising,” Will said drowsily. He was beginning to fall asleep. 

“I would let you do anything to me if you thought it was the right thing to me. I have all of you and you have all of me. Forevermore.”

“My monster,” Will whispered against Hannibal’s neck. 

He wanted to bite it. 

“My heart,” Hannibal finished. 

Will fell asleep in the warm embraces of the Devil itself. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this is enough for now! Thank you!


End file.
